Read Online All-American by John R. Tunis - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John R. Tunis
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intervene.
“Aw, shut up,” remarked Stacey in low-toned conversation with a boy behind.
Mr. Robinson, standing nearby, heard the remark. “Be polite, Jim. Say, ‘Shut up, please!’” Stacey did not seem in the least bothered by this rebuke and continued his conversation.
Finally the papers were all distributed and the teacher made some comments on their English. The spelling, he announced, was bad. One thing the High School had in common with the Academy was bad spelling. Apparently every American boy and girl was a bad speller, and there wasn’t much you could do about it. The teacher read some of their worst blunders, making Ronald smile.
“Now here’s one word almost everybody slipped up on.” He read from a student’s paper in his hand. “‘The North denied the South the right to succeed.’” He chuckled. Ronald decided he liked this man. “I shouldn’t blame the Southerners for being annoyed at this. What did he mean, class? Yes, that’s it. Secede. How do you spell it?” Before Ronald thought, his hand was raised. Stacey turned with a sneer and he tried hastily to yank it down; but the teacher saw him. “Yes... Ronald... that’s right. S-e-c-e-d-e. Some of you had queer ideas about that word and it’s important. Here’s another strange sentence. ‘The farmers of this section were planting their opinions.’” The class roared.
He went on listing their mistakes, mistakes that Ronald found hard to understand. Simple things, such as the lack of margins at the top and sides of their papers. Sentences not punctuated. Most of these errors seemed elementary to Ronald. He lost interest and began looking around the room, at the huge class of girls and boys, at the words and problems written on the blackboard, at the notices stuck up on a smaller board in the rear of the room, at the Honor Roll of the class posted high above their heads. It contained four names.
“Marion Sackett
Rose Lake
Jeanette Calahan
Esther Neuman.”
Girls, all girls. That was the way it was in every room all over the school. The girls seemed to take all the honors everywhere. Why were girls like that? And why did they invariably giggle, why couldn’t they walk and talk together two minutes without giggling? In study periods—in the library—in the corridors—on the stairs between classes—in the cafeteria—giggle—giggle—giggle.
Yet not all were gigglers, either. There were several, quite noticeable in the room, who never giggled, who were sort of serious. Especially a tallish girl in the front of the room, a girl with blonde hair and red lips. In his first week at Abraham Lincoln Ronald had discovered that all the girls except the homely ones, who apparently didn’t care, put on makeup. This girl usually wore the same costume; a rose-colored sweater and skirt, effective with her hair. She also wore stockings and tan and white shoes. He glanced under the desks around the room, looking over the bare legs, fat legs, short legs, scrawny legs, ugly legs, lovely legs. Ronald suddenly decided he was in favor of stockings.
Yes, he was in favor of stockings. He looked again at her legs; they were long and slender. His eyes went up to the rose-colored sweater which plainly defined her pretty figure. Just at that moment she turned, caught him staring, and smiled. Yes, smiled distinctly. He glanced behind. No, it was plainly for him, that smile. Because at the desks in the rear heads were bent down over books or else turned toward the windows. His face grew quickly warm. He buried his own head in a book so no one would notice his feeling.
The bell rang. A boy was reciting but he was not even permitted to finish his sentence. This was hard for Ronald to understand. No matter whether a teacher or a student was speaking, the bell was always the signal for a turmoil of chair-scraping, book-thumping, and general clatter to begin immediately. Nobody ever waited for the speaker to finish. Some things about Abraham Lincoln
“Aw, shut up,” remarked Stacey in low-toned conversation with a boy behind.
Mr. Robinson, standing nearby, heard the remark. “Be polite, Jim. Say, ‘Shut up, please!’” Stacey did not seem in the least bothered by this rebuke and continued his conversation.
Finally the papers were all distributed and the teacher made some comments on their English. The spelling, he announced, was bad. One thing the High School had in common with the Academy was bad spelling. Apparently every American boy and girl was a bad speller, and there wasn’t much you could do about it. The teacher read some of their worst blunders, making Ronald smile.
“Now here’s one word almost everybody slipped up on.” He read from a student’s paper in his hand. “‘The North denied the South the right to succeed.’” He chuckled. Ronald decided he liked this man. “I shouldn’t blame the Southerners for being annoyed at this. What did he mean, class? Yes, that’s it. Secede. How do you spell it?” Before Ronald thought, his hand was raised. Stacey turned with a sneer and he tried hastily to yank it down; but the teacher saw him. “Yes... Ronald... that’s right. S-e-c-e-d-e. Some of you had queer ideas about that word and it’s important. Here’s another strange sentence. ‘The farmers of this section were planting their opinions.’” The class roared.
He went on listing their mistakes, mistakes that Ronald found hard to understand. Simple things, such as the lack of margins at the top and sides of their papers. Sentences not punctuated. Most of these errors seemed elementary to Ronald. He lost interest and began looking around the room, at the huge class of girls and boys, at the words and problems written on the blackboard, at the notices stuck up on a smaller board in the rear of the room, at the Honor Roll of the class posted high above their heads. It contained four names.
“Marion Sackett
Rose Lake
Jeanette Calahan
Esther Neuman.”
Girls, all girls. That was the way it was in every room all over the school. The girls seemed to take all the honors everywhere. Why were girls like that? And why did they invariably giggle, why couldn’t they walk and talk together two minutes without giggling? In study periods—in the library—in the corridors—on the stairs between classes—in the cafeteria—giggle—giggle—giggle.
Yet not all were gigglers, either. There were several, quite noticeable in the room, who never giggled, who were sort of serious. Especially a tallish girl in the front of the room, a girl with blonde hair and red lips. In his first week at Abraham Lincoln Ronald had discovered that all the girls except the homely ones, who apparently didn’t care, put on makeup. This girl usually wore the same costume; a rose-colored sweater and skirt, effective with her hair. She also wore stockings and tan and white shoes. He glanced under the desks around the room, looking over the bare legs, fat legs, short legs, scrawny legs, ugly legs, lovely legs. Ronald suddenly decided he was in favor of stockings.
Yes, he was in favor of stockings. He looked again at her legs; they were long and slender. His eyes went up to the rose-colored sweater which plainly defined her pretty figure. Just at that moment she turned, caught him staring, and smiled. Yes, smiled distinctly. He glanced behind. No, it was plainly for him, that smile. Because at the desks in the rear heads were bent down over books or else turned toward the windows. His face grew quickly warm. He buried his own head in a book so no one would notice his feeling.
The bell rang. A boy was reciting but he was not even permitted to finish his sentence. This was hard for Ronald to understand. No matter whether a teacher or a student was speaking, the bell was always the signal for a turmoil of chair-scraping, book-thumping, and general clatter to begin immediately. Nobody ever waited for the speaker to finish. Some things about Abraham Lincoln
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